


Of Cherry Stems and Romance

by MoonCatKris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonCatKris/pseuds/MoonCatKris
Summary: Based on a Starrnobella prompt:(Words) Cherry. Princess. Stubble. "I hope I never lose you."Hermione and Draco. A bar, a jealous ex, cherries and flirting.HEA, EWE, Smut





	

-

Draco Malfoy wasn't entirely sure how he had even ended up attending this absurd party. He was positive that is had something to do with his old Slytherin schoolmates, but they had abandoned him at the bar ages ago. He shrugged slightly to himself and downed another shot. He frowned as he realised that all four shot glasses were empty, again.

-

What had started out as a respectable supper and charity ball for the five year Battle of Hogwarts Memorial celebration had somehow devolved into an impromptu class reunion of sorts. It would seem that over the years some of the less prominent members of each house had become acquaintances, if not friends. They had all run into each other at the memorial, of course, because literally the entire wizarding UK was there. Unfortunately, it had been held at the school itself, which meant McGonagall had final say in a lot of things. What that equated to was a lack of liquor at the event. Aside from the wine with the meal, it had been a dry affair. It was understandable, really, easier to keep sober guests under control. Most of the younger generation, those who had fought in the war, were more accustomed to and preferred parties with copious amounts of alcohol. After all, in the wizarding world bad memories were repressed, ignored and drank into oblivion rather than properly dealt with. This, however, left an entire generation of traumatised young adults who had fought a war as children and now they were all quite adept at nursing hangovers on their way to work many mornings.

The Hog's Head had been overtaken by several dozen former students looking to get drunk, and possibly room for the night. The dingy pub had been chosen only because Madame Rosmerta had closed the Three Broomsticks earlier to attend the memorial and refused to open it back up for them. Aberforth Dumbledore, who owned the Hog's Head, had refused to go to the memorial, claiming he remembered well enough without going to an event where everyone would stare at him and whisper about his brother. Most of the current group of young people agreed with him, but either couldn't or wouldn't be so obviously disdainful of an event that was meant to honour them as much as the fallen. Aberforth had only served the first round of drinks himself, then he had allowed his elves to take over the serving and retreated away from the group that was sure to become rowdy. As far as he was concerned, they could be responsible for themselves, so long as they paid for their drinks.

-

Draco looked over as someone jostled his arm and frowned. He realised, quite suddenly, that he was very crowded. He blinked, trying to clear his vision and figure out why, exactly, everyone had rushed up to the bar. “Hermione, get down from there!” A voice yelled near his ear. Draco turned to see a red faced Weasel. Following the other man's view, he tilted his head back to see Hermione Granger, of all people, standing on the bar. “No! Leave me alone Ronald!” “Harry! Make her come down.” The Weasel was whingeing, yelling for his brother in law. Draco swiveled his head, expecting Potter to appear from nowhere and remove Granger. Instead, he saw the man shake his head, roll his eyes, and turn away from his two best friends to resume snogging his wife in a corner booth. Draco sniggered. “Think it's funny, Malfoy?!” Draco simply ignored the angry ginger and signaled the elf behind the counter for another drink. “Anything is fine.”

Hermione's attention seemed to be caught by Ron yelling at Draco Malfoy. She dropped from her down to her knees. This put her at eye level with Ron, who was standing, and left Draco Malfoy at the perfect height to stare blatantly at her barely concealed breasts. “Go away Ron, and stop yelling at Malfoy. He didn't do anything.” Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise at her defence of him. “Hermione, you're making a fool of yourself and you're going to regret it in the morning.” The redhead chided. She scoffed at him. “I only regret two things in my entire life, Ronald. The first is what happened to my parents, and the second is letting you talk me into staying with you when I knew we wouldn't work out. I'm not stupid, so stop treating me like I am!” Draco really wondered how red the Weasel could turn before he actually, literally exploded. He didn't get to find out, though, because the man stalked away, planted himself in a chair and angrily stared at Hermione. She glared daggers back at the redhead, completely ignoring the blonde at the bar directly in front of her until he cleared his throat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Hermione slid out from directly in front of him. She was now sitting slightly to the left of him, but still on the bar, her legs hanging down to rest on the bar stool beside him. “What the bloody hell??” Draco stared at the drink the elf had placed in front of him. When he said 'anything' he expected shots of some sort of liquor. Apparently the elf had decided to use creative license and created some monstrosity of a cocktail. “Ooh!” Draco looked up at the witch as she plucked a cherry from his drink. She popped it in her mouth, her eyes closing in delight as she savoured the sweet and tart flavour soaked in some sort of liquor. There was a snort from behind Draco, and her eyes flashed as she opened them. They glinted for a moment, then she smirked. Draco thought he might be a bit afraid if that look were aimed at him. She leaned forward to speak near his ear and he studiously tried to ignore the way that her camisole dipped dangerously low on her breasts.

“Hey Malfoy, did you know that muggles have this saying about cherry stems?” Draco looked at her face, wondering where this could possibly be going. “Oh?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. Granger was staring at the Weasel, who was practically purple by this point. “Yeah, they say that, if you're especially talented with your mouth, you can tie a cherry stem in a knot without using your hands. It's something of a test, a proving point. Ronald didn't believe me until I took him to a muggle pub and they confirmed what it meant.” Draco smirked at her, her tone implying exactly what those talents might be. The girl had a wicked streak to her, he had to admit, and he was impressed when she pulled the perfectly knotted stem out of her mouth and held it up for him to see. The Weasel bolted up out of his chair but, quick as a shot, Hermione waved her wand and he found himself not only sitting back down but apparently glued to the seat, which was equally stuck to the floor. Ron Weasley had no real choice but to watch as Hermione placed the knotted stem in Draco Malfoy's hand, ran one finger gently across his cheek, and jumped to the floor.

Hermione sauntered out the front door of the pub, fully aware that her skirt had ridden up her thighs and her silk camisole had dipped down to bare the tops of her breasts. She was tired of Ron thinking he had some sort of claim or control over her. Since simple words were not enough, apparently, and the perfect opportunity had presented itself tonight, she decided to throw caution to the wind and act on it. Draco Malfoy loved nothing more than making Ron Weasley angry, so she was positive he would follow her. Whether or not anything actually happened between them was immaterial, so long as Ron believed it had. Though she had to admit, now that he wasn't a skeleton of a boy, terrified by war, Draco Malfoy was quite pretty.

-

“That was a hell of a show, Princess.” Draco's drawling voice cut out of the dark and she couldn't help but smirk. “The Weasel was spitting nails when I got up to follow you out. Caused a hell of a scene with his threats, especially not being able to stand up out of his chair.” Hermione's laugh echoed in the darkness as she pictured the scene. She sighed. “Ronald needs to learn that I do not belong to him, nor does he get a say in what I do. We've been over for a long time, but he can't seem to get that through his thick skull.” Draco stepped up beside her, and she turned her face toward him, studying his profile in the light from the pub windows. He had grown into his looks and really didn't look anything like a pointy ferret any more. “The real question is, Princess, was that just a show or a genuine offer?” Hermione shrugged. “I wouldn't be opposed, either way.” Draco held a hand to his heart. “You've mortally wounded me. Such a cruel Princess, playing with me and then being indifferent.” Hermione turned toward him, laughing. “I see you haven't lost your flare for the dramatic, Malfoy. Why do you keep calling me Princess?” He looked down at her, one side of his mouth pulling up. “It's what you are, what you've always been. Gryffindor's Princess.” She snorted. “Well in that case, it is only fitting that I all but propositioned the Slytherin Prince, isn't it? After all, it wouldn't do for royalty to sully herself with a commoner.”

Draco's laugh, the first time she had ever heard him truly laugh, was deep and rich. It carried through the inky night air and made her insides tingle. She was intrigued and excited, not to mention aroused, by this man who had developed from the boy who had once tormented her. Her body shivered at the very idea of what sort of things he could do to her. He, however, was not privy to her thoughts and merely assumed she was chilled. Sweeping off his cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders in a gentlemanly manoeuvre that she hadn't been anticipating. “Better?” He asked, an unexpected gentleness to his voice. She nodded. She hadn't been cold, but she was certainly better. To know he was chivalrous, that he had that caring streak in him, melted her heart a bit. In such a short span of time, feelings and long held beliefs were crumbling to dust, leaving room for something new.

-

Hermione had known he was a changed man. She had followed his endeavours over the years after she had testified for him. It seemed that the suffering he had witnessed and endured had been more than enough to break him of his prejudiced beliefs. He gave an inordinate amount to worthy charities, all anonymously. Every facet of his business was above board and he had even ventured into muggle investments. He spent two days a week at St. Mungo's, spending time in the Janus Thickey ward, where his mother was a resident. She had gone a bit mad when Lucius was sent to Azkaban, but she didn't end up hospitalised until months later, when a pair of rogue Death Eaters tortured her for helping Harry Potter. Her mind had been so fragile that it had broken almost immediately. When he wasn't with his mother, he was in the children's ward. As the wizarding world had no orphanages or anything of the sort, the children's ward housed all of the children who were left with no family after the war. Since so many were unknown Death Eater's children, it was proving difficult to place them. But seeing this side of him, this gentle, caring man who made her want to do sinful things, that was perhaps the thing that shattered the last of any doubts she may have had about the new and improved Draco Malfoy.

Hermione stepped closer to him, their bodies pressed together. “If you were opposed, I would understand, but I think I would very much like to go home with you, Draco Malfoy.” That had honestly not been the response he expected. Draco had spent a lonely last few years trying to dig his family name out of the mud. The only witches who had sought him out turned out to be either gold diggers or Death Eater fanatics, neither of which he was interested in. He did much of his charity work anonymously, of course. He didn't want to appear attention seeking, but anyone who cared could find out easily enough. It wasn't just for show, either, he really had changed. One of the reasons he had come to the bloody memorial this year was to make amends to Hermione Granger. He had buried the hatchet with Potter and his wife years ago. They weren't mates, or anything, but they were civil. The Weasel had none too kindly told him where he could shove his amends and Draco hadn't had the nerve to approach anyone else from the Weasley clan since then. Hermione Granger was different though. For whatever reason, he felt he needed to prove himself worthy before he asked her forgiveness. Perhaps it was because he had personally tormented her for her blood status, had even been the one to introduce her to that word and all the implications it included. Now, he stood here trying to process how he had come to ask her forgiveness and instead she was asking to come home with him. As her face began to fall after his extended silence, he decided he could simply talk to her once they arrived at his flat. He cupped her chin, making her meet his gaze, and smiled at her. Butterflies exploded in her stomach and she couldn't help but think he looked so much more handsome, more human, when he smiled like that, lop sided and perfectly imperfect.

“Are you certain?” Hermione's breath caught as he asked her this. She had dated a slew of men in the intervening years and none had ever thought to ask her that. She nodded. “Are you ready to go now?” Hermione's hands patted down her sides, finding her bag and her wand both stowed away. She nodded again. “Yes. I'm ready.” She found herself wrapped in his arms securely and with a small twist, they disappeared. When Hermione opened her eyes, she didn't know what to expect, but a small muggle flat was not it. Draco shifted, apparently nervous. “Well, what do you think?”

Hermione looked around. It was tastefully decorated in shades of black and grey with hints of blue. The walls bore no photos or art, but instead were covered in hanging shelves, stocked with books. On the mantle was the only place she found photographs. There were several of Draco and his mother spanning his lifetime and a few group shots from school with his housemates. Aside from a plush couch and armchair, and a set of matching coffee and end tables the place was bare. She wondered if that was because it was a short term or rarely used location, because he didn't know how to decorate, or because he simply didn't have things. “How long have you been here?” Draco shrugged self consciously. “Nearly four years, since my mother was hospitalised.” Hermione nodded. “It's a nice space. A bit minimalist for my tastes, but that's just me.” He grimaced. “My mum didn't like clutter. I just got used to always having everything put away instead of on display I guess.” Hermione smiled. “My dad was like that. 'A place for everything and everything in it's place' he used to say. I banned him from my bedroom when I was ten, because he kept trying to put my things away in a manner that made sense to him.”

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't judging him. “Would you like something to drink?” Draco asked, years of etiquette lessons not allowing him to shirk his hosting duties. Hermione smiled. “Water I think, or I will feel monstrous in the morning.” Draco laughed, but reappeared moments later with a tray bearing two glasses, a pitcher of ice water, lemon slices and a plate of biscuits. “Please, sit.” Hermione allowed him to pour her a glass of water with lemon before speaking. “You want to talk, don't you?” She could tell by his odd, suddenly formal behaviour. He nodded tensely. Draco ran a hand nervously through his hair and sighed. “I actually came to the memorial tonight to talk to you.” Hermione waited, knowing he would get to his point eventually. “Look, Granger, I need to apologise. I need you to know that I'm not the same person I was and that I feel awful about how I treated you, all the things I did. I know it's not really fair that I waited so long, but I needed to make myself a better person and feel like I deserved anything from you before I did this. I'm the one who showed you first hand the kind of prejudice you would face, and I know I don't deserve forgiveness for that but I need you to know that I'm sorry and I've changed.” Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand. “Draco... I know, OK? I know you regret it, and you've changed and I know what you've been doing all these years.” Draco sucked in a breath, but she continued. “I forgave you years ago, Draco. What you need to do is forgive yourself.”

Draco's shoulders seemed to slump in relief at her words. He sunk into the couch next to her and let out a small chuckle. “I was so worried, you know, that you would throw it back in my face. I should have known better.” Hermione studied the man beside her as she sipped her water. When he didn't move, she poured him a glass as well. “Here, drink this. It will lessen the hangover.” He accepted the cool glass and drank heavily. He hadn't realised just how thirsty he was before he began drinking. He emptied the glass and sat it back down. When he looked over at Hermione Granger, her brow was furrowed and she was chewing her lip, apparently deep in thought. She stood up suddenly, and looked down at him. “I should go.”

If Hermione hadn't been watching him, she never would have seen the moment when his face shuttered, when he drew into himself for protection. She hadn't considered, until then, just how much of himself he was allowing her to see. “If you wish.” He said, formally, coldly. She sighed. “Malfoy....” He held up a hand. “You don't owe me anything Granger and of course you are free to leave if you wish.” “Draco!” Hearing her chastise him, using his proper name, caused shock to flit across his face for a moment before he shuttered it again. With a sigh, she sank back down to the couch. Her hands reached for his face, one on either cheek, and tilted his head down to look at her. “Draco, don't do that.” “I don't-” But she cut him off. “Don't shut me out like that. Listen.” His features softened slightly in response to her soothing tone, but he was still guarded.

Hermione leaned forward until there was only a hairsbreadth between them. She ghosted her lips over his own but pulled back before he could deepen the kiss. “Draco, if you want, I'll go to bed with you right now. I wouldn't object to that. But I think... If I went to bed with you right now, that would be it. A one off. Is that what you want out of this? Because it could be more. You won't hear me say this often Draco Malfoy, but for once in my life, I'm inclined to ignore my brain in favour of my heart. This could be something really good, but not if we rush it.” Draco drew a shaky breath. She wasn't rejecting him. Quite the opposite. She was trying to draw it out, turn this into something more than a singular night of probably very good sex. His hands shook for a moment as he lifted them to the sides of her face and buried them in her curls. He pressed their lips together firmly, devouring her sweet mouth for a moment. Then, he forced himself to pull away. He stood and turned. “Go home, Granger. Hermione. I'll owl you tomorrow. Ask you out to dinner properly. We'll go on a date and see where this goes. If it doesn't work out, it's not like we can't have a one off later.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice at his last words. He was teasing her, but she knew he was also protecting himself. Her fingers traced across his shoulders as she passed him. “Goodnight Draco.” Before he could respond, there was a loud whoosh as his floo flared up and then she was gone. Draco groaned. He knew she was right, really, but that hadn't stopped him from wanting to bend her over his couch and fuck her until she couldn't walk, just for starters. Flicking his wand at his fireplace, he locked the floo for the night and walked toward his bedroom, loosening his clothes as he went.

By the time Draco reached his en suite bathroom, his clothes were hanging from his body and fell easily into a pile on the cold tile floor. He flipped the shower on with one hand, the other already firmly wrapped around his cock. Ordinarily he might feel a bit bad about wanking to a girl that he had just sent home thoroughly unshagged, but Granger was special. He had every intention of shagging her, and soon, just as soon as she realised he wasn't going to just fuck her once and then run. He stepped into the hot spray, reaching for the soap. He lathered himself up, and used the slick bubbles to ease the slide of his hand over his throbbing erection. He closed his eyes as his hand moved, imagining Granger still sitting on that bar. What if, instead of sitting to the side of him, she had sat on the bar directly in front of him, her smooth legs straddling him. What if he had leaned forward and licked that delectable looking collar bone she had so enticingly bared? Would she have wound up in his lap, a puddle of need and arousal? Would she have sucked at his neck, forcing a low moan out of his throat? He looked forward to the day when she would discover that particular spot on his body. His hand moved faster as he rushed toward his climax, imagining all the wicked things Hermione Granger could and would do. It was always the good girls who were naughty. He exploded with a groan and leaned against the shower wall, allowing the water to rinse him clean. 

Across town, in an even smaller muggle flat, Hermione Granger stood under the spray in her tiny box of a shower. She hadn’t really wanted to leave Draco tonight. She would have happily fallen into his bed, actually. The possibility of what could happen, if they made something of this attraction, had been the only thing to propel her into the fireplace and home. Still, it didn’t change the fact that she was incredibly aroused and could taste Draco in her mouth even now. The image of Draco, thoroughly disheveled, was fresh in her mind and she couldn’t help but let her hands wander over her body, helped along by the bubbles clinging to her skin. She tweaked her nipples, rubbing her hands over them, imagining his larger hands on her body. She wondered if he would have dropped to his knees tonight and worshiped her. She whimpered as her fingers worked furiously and her climax drew near while she imaged Draco Malfoy, on his knees in front of her, lapping at her cunt like he was a man starved. She moaned, long and loud, when she came around her fingers. She slid to the shower floor as her legs gave out and just sat in the hot spray for several minutes before standing to finish washing.

-

Three weeks later-

Draco Malfoy stared at Hermione Granger across the table in the restaurant. “I can't believe that it took almost three weeks before we could go out on our second date!” Colour rose in Hermione's cheeks. “I've already apologised. I cancelled on Harry and Ginny with no excuse for our first date, I couldn't do it again without telling them why, and it's not as if I chose to have emergencies come up at my office.” He huffed and crossed his arms, and Hermione laughed. “What?” He groused. “You look like you did when we were twelve years old and you didn't get your way. We're here now, that's all that matters.” Draco smirked at her and reached for her hand. “I suppose you're right.”

The dinner passed uneventfully. Hermione was glad he was amenable to muggle restaurants, because she really didn't feel like dealing with the press while on a date. Draco had somehow managed to procure them a private booth, anyway, so even if any wizarding reporters stumbled by they were unlikely to be seen. Draco had just sent the waiter off to charge his card and box up some sort of chocolate dessert for them to carry out, when he turned to her with a smirk and a familiar glint in his eye.

His fingers rubbed suggestively over hers, pulling her hand to his mouth where he placed open mouthed kisses against her palm. “Tell me, Hermione...” His voice had taken on a husky quality and she couldn't stop the visceral reaction it caused in her body as heat pooled between her legs. “On our first date, nearly three weeks ago I must remind you, you said you wouldn't put out on the first date.” Hermione swallowed and nodded. He grinned at her, his teeth now grazing over the sensitive flesh of her wrist. “Tell me then, how do you feel about the second date.” Hermione's lips twitched, but she managed to hold back her smirk. “That really depends on how the date goes.” Draco lifted his eyebrows. He had expected to be shot down again. “And how do you feel this date is going?”

Hermione was spared having to answer when the waiter reappeared. Draco, however, was content to ignore the man in favour of her. She leaned forward slightly and he mirrored her pose, clearly hoping for a particular answer. “Sign the bill, Draco, so we can leave.” He hurried to comply, fumbling the pen and making her laugh. She had managed to make him lose his cool for once in his life and it was intoxicating. Draco scribbled his signature and an obscenely large tip. Before the waiter could even disappear, Draco was out of his chair and helping Hermione with her own. He gathered the dessert box and their jackets and ushered Hermione out the door. He tugged her by the hand as he hurried to turn into the next alley. They were barely out of sight when he apparated them.

-

Hermione's feet had barely hit the floor when his mouth was on hers. She moaned into the kiss and pressed herself against him, threading her fingers into his silky hair. Draco's own fingers were deftly pulling pins from her hair, allowing the mass of curls to tumble down her back where he promptly wrapped his fingers in it. When they finally broke for air, they were both panting. Goosebumps rose along Hermione's neck and shoulder where his hot breath puffed against her skin. Impatient, she pulled one hand from his hair and began tugging at the buttons of his shirt. Chuckling at her impatience and growing frustration as she struggled, Draco drew his wand from his pocket and vanished the offending article. He had a dozen more just like it anyway. Hermione sighed happily as her fingers traced over his chest, but paused when they met the raised, rope like scar across his chest. Draco stiffened under her fingers. Many a witch had been unable to look past the nasty scars he bore from the war, and not just his dark mark.

Hermione wasn't like other witches though. She leaned forward, her lips brushing over the scar, and Draco shuddered. “Hermione. You don't have to-” She cut him off with a finger to his lips and proceeded to pull off her own shirt. His eyes were drawn immediately to her breasts, but moved on to the scar across her own abdomen. Draco understood immediately. He dropped to his knees, pressing his own lips against her scar as well. Rising to his feet, he scooped the small witch over his shoulder and carried her toward the bedroom. Hermione laughed even as she demanded to be put down. She was breathless and a wide smile stretched across her face when he dropped her on the bed.

Draco wasted no time in discarding his remaining clothes, and hers as well. Hermione's eyes were dark with lust as they traveled over every inch of his exposed skin, as if trying to burn the image into her brain. Draco's eyes were doing much the same, but he was far less patient than Hermione, and his hands soon followed. He stood at the foot of the bed where she lay sprawled in front of him. His long fingers found her ankles and brushed up her calves, behind her knees, and, gripping the bottom of her thighs, he parted her legs. She was eager to comply and exposed herself to him willingly. Her fingers clenched in the bed sheets in an attempt to keep from grabbing him and pulling him up the bed to be face to face with her. Draco crawled up the bed between her legs, ducking his head suddenly to nip at her thigh. Hermione jerked, not expecting the bite, but he was soon soothing the mark with his tongue and she relaxed back into his ministrations. Draco's fingers skimmed up her thighs, over her hip bones and back down, drawing swirling lines and patterns over Hermione's pelvis, but never quite touching where she most desired. Hermione writhed and whined under his touch and he chuckled low in his throat. “I'm sorry, was there something you wanted?” The faux earnestness in his voice made her growl when she met his eyes. “If you don't touch me, I'll do it myself and leave you here to handle your erection alone.” Draco smirked at her, but complied none the less, his fingers finally, finally, slipping inside of her.

-

Hermione's eyes were pressed closed and she bit her lip to stifle her moan as he managed to work a third finger inside of her. She gasped loudly when his teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her thigh. Her eyes flew open and she glared at him. “I want to hear you, see you. Don't hold back on me. No one can witness this except me.” Reassured by his words, Hermione allowed herself to give in to the whimpers and groans he drew from her. She rose higher, closer to the peak of her orgasm, and Draco watched her, intently cataloguing her body's reactions. She was quivering all over her body as she neared the precipice and Draco was thrilled by it. “Don't hold back, Hermione. Let go. Come for me.” and she did. The moment she felt herself let go, the moment she began to fall over that edge, Draco finally crashed his mouth down on her. His tongue seeking out her throbbing clit to stroke it, forcing her orgasm to a sudden higher peak and making her scream out when he drew it fully into his mouth.

Draco's face was soaked, as was his hand and his bed, but he grinned anyway. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and finally found him. “Wow” was the only breathless word she could muster as she panted, willing her heart to slow. She watched Draco, sat on the bed near her feet, licking at his fingers like a cat who got the cream with an utterly feral smile on his roguish face. When Hermione realised that 'the cat who got the cream' was perhaps a bit too literal of a metaphor, she turned red. Her embarrassment passed quickly, however, as she realised just what sort of power she had over him. His entire pale body was flushed in arousal, his cock, jutting solid and proud was nearly throbbing in anticipation and weeping with want of her. She had done this to him, simply by letting him pleasure her.

Hermione felt a self satisfied smirk pull at her face. She licked her lips, dry she now realised, and before Draco could notice or react she had pulled herself up and pounced. She pushed him back on the bed where she had been before and wasted no time in showing him just how much she appreciated his enthusiasm. She licked him from base to tip, moaning at the slightly salty flavour of the precum that had been generously flowing from his cock while he fingered her. He hissed at the contact but made no move yet. She leaned forward, sucking his head into her warm mouth and drawing in as much of the shaft as she could manage. She paused, letting herself adjust and stroking the throbbing vein that ran the length with her tongue, making him moan at the feel. After a moment, she breathed out through her nose and leaned further forward, pressing his cock into her throat until her nose was against his pelvic bone. “Fuck!” Draco's fingers wrapped in her hair, conveniently holding it out of her face. The corners of her lips turned up even as she tried not to gag at his involuntarily spasm. As she drew back, she hollowed her cheeks, sucking. When her tongue hit the ridge of his head, she flicked her tongue back and forth across the frenulum where the shaft and ridge met. His hands fisted tighter in her hair at the stimulation, but she didn't mind.

Draco pulled her mouth off of him with a wet sounding pop. He released her hair, grabbing onto her arms instead, and hauled the witch up his body until she straddled him and they were nose to nose. She looked utterly devious with that little smirk on her face and he devoured her mouth in a fit of lust. “Hermione,” He panted as they tore their mouths apart unwillingly “please!” He seemed incapable of being more articulate, but she nodded, understanding perfectly. She thought that if he didn't fill her immediately that she may just die.

Draco scooted up the bed, bringing her with him on his lap, until he could partially prop himself up against the headboard. As he moved, Hermione stretched out a hand, wordlessly summoning her wand. A soft blue light glowed between them as she cast a contraceptive spell over her abdomen and she allowed her wand to fall from her hand and roll to the floor. She met Draco's eyes and, while they were dark, pupils blown wide in lust, they were also soft. Hermione felt her heart swell, seeing her own emotions mirrored back at her. Perhaps not love, not yet, but he cared about her. Hermione planted her knees on either side of his legs and raised herself up. She captured his mouth again, gentler this time, and reached for him. Using her hand to align them, she sunk herself down into his lap until he was completely sheathed within her. He broke away from her lips, desperate for air, but his head fell forward and his lips pressed against her neck, her shoulder, her jaw. He grazed the sensitive skin with his teeth as she began to move above him.

Hermione knew Draco probably would have chosen to draw things out. He liked to play games, push her to her limits. As it was, she seemed to be the one in charge and she had no intention of dragging this out. She was already on the precipice of another orgasm and she longed to see him lose control, to watch his face as he completely lost the ability to hide himself from her. She wanted to see him unmasked, uncontrolled, bared to her in a way that few would ever see. She slammed herself down on him, “fuck, yes.” Draco hissed, his fingers gripping her hips tightly, hard enough that she was sure she would have bruises, but she relished it. She didn't feel used, she felt cherished, like he wanted to hold her tight enough that he could never lose her. She sped up, leaning forward so her mouth brushed the shell of his ear and her clit ground against his pelvis. “I'm so close, Draco.” She murmured, her teeth nipping at his ear and then the sensitive skin below it. He bucked against her as she sucked his skin into her mouth, leaving a love bite at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Harder, please!” She begged and he rocked into her faster. Her nails dug into his shoulders and his movements became erratic as he neared the point of no return. “Yes. Draco, fuck I'm-” She cut off with a shriek as she arched back in his arms, her orgasm triggering his own. She slumped against him, sated and satisfied as she felt the warmth of his pleasure fill her. She sighed contentedly, and lifted her head to kiss him gently and smile at him with sleepy eyes. “That was...” “fucking fantastic!” He finished for her, perhaps a bit more colourfully than she would have worded it, but accurate nonetheless.

Draco, still panting, gently pulled her off of him and to the side. He grimaced at the mess, and ordinarily Hermione would have as well, but she didn't have it in her to care at the moment. They could clean up later. She moved, following after Draco as he slid down into the pillows, to snuggle into his side. His arm curled around her immediately, holding her close. She didn't comment on the smile on his lips. She feared if she mentioned it, then he would close off again. So, she said nothing, and instead just enjoyed seeing him so free. When he had caught his breath, he spoke. “Merlin, Granger, I really thought you were trying to kill me.” She cocked a brow at him. He was so dramatic. “In what way?” She inquired. “Three whole weeks, witch. I didn't think you'd make me wait three whole weeks.” She smirked. “I told you I wasn't putting out on the first date.” He groaned. “It's not my fault that it took so long to get our second date.” She had to concede that point. It had been her fault. “I know. I'm sorry.” “You really, really must learn to delegate.” She pouted at his admonition. “Hermione, I'm serious. They made you head so that you can give the jobs to people who can do them, not so you could do it all yourself. You're working yourself to death.” “I am not.” She insisted sulkily. He turned slightly and looked down at her. “Yes, you are. Potter agrees with me. You have a life now. You can't be at work all the time. I worry about you, you know.” Hermione's heart skipped a beat at that admission. Draco wasn't the type to put his feelings on display, but when he did, Merlin, she never felt more treasured. She snuggled closer to him. “OK.” She agreed. “I'll try. Starting tomorrow. I'm tired.” Her eyes slipped closed, and Draco followed soon after, pulling the blanket over their entangled bodies.

-

Hermione's eyes cracked open with the light of dawn. She blinked away the sleep in her eyes, but tried not to move too much so she didn't disturb Draco. Her eyes were level with his toned chest, and she couldn't help but finger the thick scar there. She hated that Harry had done this to him, but as he kept reminding her, there was no changing the past.

“Besides,” he had said last night, “we match. You're probably the first person who hasn't recoiled in disgust at the scars I bear.” Her eyes had met the floor, then. “It's the same for me.” She admitted, thinking of Ron’s aversion to anything that reminded him she’d been hurt in the war. Draco had run his hands over the scar that slashed across her abdomen. “These scars are a badge of honour. They show that you fought, and you survived. You're amazing, Hermione.”

Hermione’s fingers and eyes traveled upwards, ghosting over the love bites she had left on him and filling her chest with a possessive sort of pride. She stopped suddenly when she reached his jaw line. Her eyes went wide and she grinned to herself as she looked up at him. Draco was almost obsessive about his appearance. Even when he was disheveled, it was purposeful. She had never seen him with stubble, and honestly, she was a little surprised by the coarse hair covering his jaw. Some men simply didn't grow facial hair and she’d assumed Draco to be one of them. She studied him. The hair was darker than that on his head. Unsurprising, really, because all of his body hair was a darker blonde than the platinum on his head. She couldn't really picture Draco with a beard of any sort, but still, the stubble fascinated her. Her fingers ran across it, and finally, she pulled her cheek up to rub against it. “What are you doing?” One grey eye peered at her and she giggled. “You have stubble.” He rolled his eyes at this and sat up, rubbing his face. “Of course I do, you ridiculous witch.” Though he said it with no malice and she grinned.

Draco pulled himself out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. Hermione laid back in his fluffy pillows, enjoying the view. Draco was wholly unashamed of his body and was just as happy to walk around in the nude as he was to wear his expensive robes. Hermione didn't mind. He was tall and lean, but muscular. He still played the occasional quidditch match, and trained regularly to keep in shape. She sighed happily and let her eyes drift shut as she heard him start the shower. She was so glad she had followed her heart instead of her brain on that night a few weeks ago. She couldn't remember ever being so content. The shower cut off, but Hermione didn't move. She was comfy, laying here with her eyes closed, relaxing.

Draco, now clean and stubble free, walked out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his head. He was surprised to find Hermione still in bed, apparently having gone back to sleep. A soft sigh escaped him and he smiled. He was glad she was a stubborn witch, because he knew now that a one off never would have been enough with her. He dropped the towel across a chair and carefully climbed back into the bed beside her. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and she snuggled closer to him. “I hope I never lose you.” Draco whispered, feeling secure enough with her asleep to voice his fears and feelings in one short sentence. Hermione's eyelids fluttered open, but he wasn't looking at her just then. She brought her hand up to his cheek, surprising him a bit. She turned his face back to hers and kissed him gently. “You couldn't if you tried, Draco. I'm not going anywhere.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this little story. Reviews and feedback appreciated! <3Kris


End file.
